OOC: So, I'll be continuing the story here until (or more likely, if) the regular forums return. Rather than repost everything I've done up until this point, I will link the story so far on my rp site, rp haven, where I am also posting the story.

http://www.rphaven.net/phpBB3/viewtopic.php?f=5&t=16

Where we left off, for those who don't feel like or don't need to review the whole story: Unveiling his abilities, Matthias wards off the pursuing Rochester, allowing for the escape of Ellen, Quincy, and him. Meanwhile, Rachael and Tarah's reunion has been interrupted by the arrival of some mysterious individuals, led by someone Rachael is familiar with...

IC:

The man who had stepped out of the passenger seat of the first car now removed his sunglasses, and Rachael scoffed in annoyance, having recognized him as soon as he had stepped out of the car. “Macon…couldn’t let bygones be bygone, could you?”

Macon’s reply was blunt if anything. “Fuck you, bitch.”

Tarah blinked in confusion at the brown haired man. “Rachael…you want to fill me in?”

Rachael flexed the fingers in her natural hand. “Guess you could say I had a bit of a working vacation. Macon here was roughing people out of their homes in my parent’s neighborhood -- some real estate scam or something.”

Tarah sighed. She had a feeling where this was going. “That’s all you knew about it?”

Rachael grinned. “I didn’t bother with details – I just kicked his ass.”

Macon lividly pointed a finger at her. “You busted in on my operation and offed a good number of my men while you were at it!”

Rachael barked right back. “So, that just gives you an excuse to come find me, eh? What you were doing was illegal, you pitiful ****! I’m sure the people you just booted out and hurt would’ve liked to shove a foot down your throat just as much!”

Macon angrily signaled with his hand, and men got out of the other four cars. Only one passenger in the fourth car remained seated. His face was down though, so Tarah could not see who it was. As for the other men and this Macon guy, Tarah recognized none of them. It seemed Rachael had conveniently forgotten to feel in some details about her trip home. The girl did have a habit of running into things without thinking about the repercussions, so Tarah was not surprised in the list. She had already taken off her glasses and placed them on a bench by the door to the café.

Rachael, too, had not recognized any of the men, other than Macon, a fact she chose to call her adversary on. “These aren’t your goons, Macon…where’d ya get them? A website? Brainlessthugs.com?”

Macon spat on the ground before responding. “I called in a favor…friend of mine, after hearing who you were, was more than willing to loan me some guys to beat your face in, the old school way.”

Tarah, admittedly, was not listening to a word Macon said. Let the blowhard talk, it allowed her a moment to assess the situation. Four cars…maximum capacity would be five each…twenty men total, Macon and the seated passenger included. Ten each between her and Rachael. Would Jason be there to help? No, knowing him, he had taken off after a brief icy conversation with his ex. And she couldn’t let any one of these fools into the café, lest they find Xander. The boy’s ability to defend himself was practically nil.

None of them seemed to be holding guns. Macon was serious about beating them in “the old school way.” The men in black suits weren’t entirely unarmed though. Some had pipes or bats on them. Black suits, fairly improvised weapons…this matched somebody’s style, somebody who they had crossed paths with before. And Macon said the supplier of these men had known Rachael…an enemy of the Knights? Again, not too surprising. Their little band had made some considerable enemies throughout their jobs.

There was no time to figure out who sent their foes, though. With a point, Macon identified their targets. “Whack them both! And watch out for the psycho bitch’s metal arm!”

The black suited men approached the two women, chuckling and grinning. Rachael calmly reached down to the sheath that was always at her hip – her trusty knife. With an effortless flick of her wrist, the blade was flung forward, finding its resting spot in the throat of a blond haired goon, who dropped to the ground with a gurgle.

Rachael grinned fiercely as she flipped Macon the bird with her natural hand. “I’d watch out for this arm too, asshole. It’s just as capable of ****ing you creeps up.”

Behind them the door opened, and Xander came out. “Tarah, Rachael, what’s taking so long with the grocer--”

He stopped. It did not take him long to notice the advancing armed thugs, or the man lying on the ground, with Rachael’s knife in his throat and blood seeping from it. With a wail, he slammed the door shut, locked it, and fled back to his room.

“Just you and me, girl!” Rachael laughed. “I was tired of vacation – it’s good to get back to work!”

“It was because of your vacation we’re here! Stick close, and don’t go charging--”
Rachael had already charged ahead, yelling. Tarah, her advice falling on deaf ears, sighed and followed her friend into the fight.

Good update. Nice to see you're writing again =)

BGM: Twin Pistons (Laser Seeker, Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex)

Rachael bounded forward, where one of the suited thugs readied a steel pipe he brandished in his left hand. He swung, and met her left arm. With the force he swung with, this would normally shatter the bones in her arm – but when your arm was a mass of metal and wiring, you didn’t worry about such thing. The weapon deflected off the plate of her arm with a clang, followed by Rachael’s knee into the man’s crotch. He collapsed to the ground with a gasp.

Tarah, on the other hand, was not one to bound forward into a fight so haphazardly. She readied herself as one of the men took a horizontal swing at her with a bat. She ducked, throwing out a palm strike almost instantly after it. She hit right into the sweet spot, the solar plexus. He lost his breath for a moment, and Tarah shot up into an upward elbow to his chin, sending him into a world of blackness.

Rachael had reached the corpse her knife was buried in, and pulled it out, this time keeping it in her hand. She blocked another attack with her metal arm, and shot out with a quick stab to the man’s chest. As he fell, Rachael sensed someone coming up behind her.

“Aaaaargh!” she yelled as she spun around, her fierce metal arm grasping the man’s throat. She continued her spin, taking the man with until she stopped, suddenly hurling the man into two of his comrades. She cackled in success for a moment, until she saw one of the men groggily get back up. It wasn’t so much that he was getting up; it’s what he was using as a support to stand up. “Get your ****ing hand off my bike!”

The man had just enough to take his hands off the beloved riding machine before a metal fist struck his temple, sending him into unconsciousness.

Tarah was taking it much calmer, even though her vehicle had taken a bit of damage now, too. When she leapt to the side to avoid a thug’s bat swing, he had collided with her jeep instead, leaving a sizable dent in it. But Tarah saw no need to get angry – why scream and yell when a side kick to the face got the point across just as well?

Another black suited buffoon wound up and threw a haymaker – considering how solidly built the man was, the punch might be enough to cause legitimate trouble for the red headed brawler.

That is, if it ever connected. But Tarah swung both arms in a fierce block, warding off the attack. Her foot effortlessly glided behind his knee, kicking it out. As he tumbled to his knee, Tarah threw another quick kick, knocking him to the ground. Tarah smiled aimlessly to the next goon, whose eyes had gone wide.

“C’mon, hun, if you’re going to try and cause trouble at my café, you’d best bring your A game.”
Rachael smiled as she now stood by her beloved riding machine – her baby. But stowed away in the bike, in a side compartment, was something that would easily even the numbers out. With a wolfish grin, she sheathed her knife, and then withdrew her other baby.

The unmistakable cocking sound of a shotgun made it clear to all what it was. Rachael continued grinning as wide as she could. Just because these idiots wanted to prove their toughness by using bludgeoning weapons, didn’t mean she had to.

“Wh-what the…?” a black suit stammered.

“Superior firepower, mother ****er!” Rachael yelled as she leveled the gun at him.

“Oh sh…” his body dropped before he could finish, pumped full of shot.

Macon gritted his teeth, barely containing his fury. This had gone from a slugfest to complete bull**** in a moment, and he had to get rid of this demon woman one way or another. He reached underneath the jacket of his suit, and withdrew a small pistol. He leveled it at Rachael’s head, and his finger readied itself on the trigger.

Suddenly two hands descended on him, one wrenching the gun from his grasp, the other violent snapping his wrist back. The snap of bone was loud and clear, but nothing compared to his wail of pain as he sank to his knees.

“Call them off, or I break the other one.” Tarah demanded.

“I told you I don’t control them!” Macon screamed, tears streaming down his face. “Jesus ****ing Christ, you bitches are insane!”

Tarah, with resolve, grabbed his other wrist. “Then here goes the other one. Call whoever can control them, and have him call them off!”

“No, no I couldn’t!” Macon continued to plea.

Tarah began to bend his wrist back.

“Aaaaah! Aaaah! Okay, okay, you god damn psycho!” Macon bellowed, “Robert! Call them off!”

Tarah let go of his wrist, and looked over at the last car, as the man in it stood up and out of the car. Rachael stopped for a moment and yelled, “Well, look who it ****ing is!”

“I figured it was probably you the moment I saw the style of suits,” Tarah sighed as she shook her head. “Just couldn’t stay the hell away from us, could you, Morcate?”

The man threw off his sunglasses, and spat on the ground. “Course not! I’ve got some humiliation to pay back.”

BGM: Criminal Flow (Mist, Samurai Champloo)

Tarah regarded the man who had become a self proclaimed enemy of their band: Robert Morcate of the Comani Crashers – named for the brand of formalwear Morcate preferred. Whenever they were hired to protect a person, item or location, Morcate was usually the one hired to kill, steal, or destroy whatever it is they were protecting. Luckily, it seemed the Knights edged him out every time, leaving him embittered to them, despising their very being. But he was a dangerous rival nonetheless who usually pushed them to the edge, and even was he was livid; he’d hide it behind a smile so greasy it would make a used car salesman blush. He was a braggart, especially when it came to his success with women. Tarah wondered how many of these said women were paid or forced, and the thought threw a scowl on to her face.

“Call your maggots off, Robert. I know damn well you want a piece of me yourself.” Tarah challenged. The last few times they had met, Tarah had personally subdued the man.

Tarah challenged correctly, as Morcate waved to his remaining associates. “Get back in the car.” Everyone present knew of Morcate’s overly controlling pride – he was all about playing dirty and outnumbering his foe until someone called him on it, when he was forced to prove himself first hand. He had just been called on it. His henchmen wordlessly climbed back into the cars, but kept their eyes riveted

Morcate pointed at Rachael. “That means you stay out of it too, you psycho!”

Rachael was slowly withdrawing her knife just the same, when she noticed that Macon had taken the moment to crawl a way, and eventually regain his feet and start to sprint away. “Shit, Tarah, Macon’s booking!”

“Go!” Tarah yelled, understanding the situation immediately.

The two women seemed to run at each other, confusing Morcate, when Tarah leapt up, vaulting off her friend’s shoulder as Rachael dashed off after Macon. Morcate had no time to react as Tarah collided into him full force with her foot. The force bowled him to the ground, and he had but a moment before Tarah savagely laid into his ribs with a series of swift kicks. This was personal – Morcate had once caught Jason by surprise and savagely beaten him with his signature weapon. Jason still bore the scars oh his back, and seeing this man’s face only brought back those infuriated feelings.

Rachael meanwhile was making up the distance on Macon, who was not much of a runner. As she pushed through the crowd, she thought only of the pursuit, not how much of a scene a knife wielding woman shouting obscenities might make.

Macon ducked into an abandoned alleyway, hoping to find some kind of shortcut to a more crowded area. With a wail, he realized he had run right into a dead end. He turned, and continued wailing as he felt the rough bricks of a wall press into his back, and the cold metal of Rachael’s artificial hand close on his throat. “Don’t…don’t kill me…” he managed to gasp out.

“Why? So you can come after again?” Rachael growled. “Or so you can go back there and hurt my parents? I don’t ****ing think so.”

“But, you…like…fight for that…justice shit…you have to be…merciful…” he wheezed out between coughs and gasps.

“Clearly, you’ve mistaken me for a better woman.” Rachael muttered darkly, as her fingers closed.

As she walked away, she flexed her fingers. Didn’t even leave prints…just a villain with his throat crushed in. She’d justify it, as she did every time, by saying dead villains don’t come back to bother you. It was one of the things Tarah and she clashed most on. Tarah would beat Morcate, that she was sure of. And then stupidly hand him over to the police. And he would weasel his way out, and be back again. Such a stupid, pointless cycle…

BGM: Brutal and Quick (Liquor Bar and Drunkard, Guilty Gear XX)

Tarah gave Morcate one last kick, and then pulled him up by the collar. “I am going to take what you did to my teammate out of your hide.”

Morcate only chuckled. “You mean what I did to your teammate, and what I’ll do to you.” He reached up quickly with a hand, and sliced Tarah’s cheek open with a razor blade he had been hiding in his palm. Tarah flinched for just a second, but that gave Morcate to reach at his belt, and pull out his true favored weapon – a chain he had wrapped around his waist. Tarah scowled – the weapon that had hurt her friend so.

He flailed it out at her face, but Tarah instinctively brought her arms up to take the blows. Morcate crowed, “Right where I want you!” He swung the chain in a manner that it quickly wrapped around her wrists. With a yank, Tarah was face first into the ground. She immediately tried to stand back up, but Morcate strode forward, and put a boot to her temple.

Stars exploded in her vision, and she felt like her skull would explode. She fought to hold her consciousness in check, as Morcate yanked on the chain again, throwing her in another direction. She tasted the dirt again, now mixing with blood seeping from her nose. It wasn’t broken, thank heavens, but it was bleeding something fierce. Keep your cool Tarah, she told herself, you’re angry, you’re hurting…bur remember what dad taught you. Calm, focused. Now, how can we turn the tables back on him?

“So, you’re just going to let me yank your chain?” Morcate exploded into a fit of laughter at his extremely poor joke.

Two can play this game you bastard, she thought as she shot back to her feet. As Morcarte dashed forward for another kick, Tarah yanked back violently on the chain. Morcate was jerked along, stumbling towards Tarah. With a roar, Tarah brought a knee into his face as she leapt up. Morcate hit the ground, and Tarah put a boot to the side of his head.

Morcate growled. “So much for hospitality, huh?”

Like you could even be considered a customer, you lowlife, Tarah thought. Still, she played along with his stupidity. “We have the right to refuse service to anyone.” With that, she refused to give him any more words, stamping down on his temple twice. Morcate blacked out.

There was no time to celebrate her victory. Her head was screaming in pain, and Morcate’s men were getting back out of the car for round two. Tarah winced in pain as she readied herself.

Suddenly approaching sirens could be heard, and the men got back in the cars, scrambling to get away. They would not stay for their boss, they were specifically told by him never to do so, leave any stragglers behind, even if it was him.

Tarah heard small steps come up behind her, and she glanced to see Xander come out, a phone clutched in his hands. “I c-called Officer T-t-t-tennebaum,” he said, eyes still widened with fright.

Tarah sighed relief. “God bless you, Xander.”

Well-written fighting scenes and good choice of music =')

Oh crap, when I have more time I'll be reading this. I've been wondering what happened to it, was worried it had been dropped.